Oh that sharp bane, it sears my ears
When he blows it, early light.
Mine's a wracked life; this dolt still breathes, babe.
I'll decease that a……. lout some night.

To blow on that sharp fife, twit need breathe, babe
Starve-vent pillow'd start to spread,
Or rough goves'd close 'round throat; deplete, babe,
His lungs of air as his fair face went red.

And now my wife talks: "Uh, hon, noooo! Won't be mournin', uh uh,
That guy's body that'd be losin' life. . .Geek!
Throat I ain't squeezin' when your horn errs.
You can't snuff shmucks for manglin' fife."

"Ah," I just shrug, mope (shrug, shrug, shrug); down spine a shiver starts to go;
A demented rag's note's he's scoopin', that clown.
It will be rent and busted, the drum of my ear.
Five to ten I'd spend in slam to blank that sound.

Now d'ya hear about losin' Miller? Glenn disappeared, babe,
After starting out to Gaul, in a crash.
If drowned Glenn heard gusts by this wailer,
He'd come back, give this guy's mug a smash.

It's gonna drive me, ow! ow! to puke; it galls me.
Need a law to limit damn oaf's louche-sheep* sound.
"Changed my mind about your plight, babe,"
Says my mate, "Let's take him down!"

[sharp fife interlude]

So we say, "Come at 5:00, sir, for soothin' toddy.

[aside]
"Look out, 'cause we missed tellin' ya: when ya "Louche"* it down
That's strychnine poured down your pipe, taste-
less, so have another round."

Look, now he's flat--on his back.


*louche: disreputable; La Louche: the process of adding iced water to absinthe, which dilutes the drink and slowly transforms its color from the original emerald green to a lighter, opalescent shade of milky green.